What happens when everyday before you fall asleep, you pray to God, who you don’t believe exists, to send you to Hogwarts. When you fall asleep thinking about magic, and wake up looking for your letter, even though it would be three years late? What happens when every time anything good happens to you, you assume it was magic. Like when you have a history debate, that you aren’t completely ready for, and your teacher calls in sick? I don’t call it luck. I don’t call it fate. I call it Magic.